


Christmas Lights and Fire Warmth

by StyAndTheBunnies



Category: DC Comics, Teen Titans, Young Justice
Genre: Christmas stuff, Fluff, M/M, Secret Santa, Sweetness, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StyAndTheBunnies/pseuds/StyAndTheBunnies
Summary: [Secret Santa for Khaki-Da on Tumblr]Ficlets for Christmas - Bart & Jaime fluff and only fluff around Christmas and the holidays. First snows, first christmas, and some evolution in their relationship.





	1. Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whoevenareyou (khaki_da)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaki_da/gifts).



> Merry Christmas everyone! And an even Merrier Christmas to Khaki-Da!  
> I hope you'll like it and forgive my mistakes since I'm not an english native! I really liked to write this ~

****

#  **Snow**

 

Snow. White, cold, falling from the sky. Christmas rhymed with snow. It was pure white and, the first time it came from the sky, Bart couldn't help but stare at it for hours, face glued to the window. White. So white. He didn't know snow could be that white. From where he came from, snow was dirty, brownish, stifling and heavy. _Ashes_ , he remembered. They were ashes. Not snowflakes.  
As he layed a bit more against the window, blankets around him to let him stare without being uncomfortable, the storm outside calmed down. Soon, everything became clearer and quiet. The snowflakes didn't make any noise falling on the covered ground ; the wind was gone ; the sky had that bright color even though clouds were hiding the sun. Bart got up ; the soft _thud_ he made when his feet touched the floor was the only noise in the house. _Thud thud thud_. He went to get a scarf, gloves, a coat and a pair of boots with fake fur. _Thump thump thump_.He got outside as quickly as he stood up.  
The porch had been protected from the heavy snow fall by the roof, and he stopped right before the stairs. Snow. It was all around here, white, waiting as if it had been just placed in front of him by someone. New, untouched, smooth. Carefully,, the Speedster raised his right foot, then put it cautiously on the first step. The snow cracked slightly. He froze. Waited. A couple of snowflakes crashed around his foot ; some more came to get stuck in his hair. His ears were cold, and his nose was starting to get pink. He didn't care about that. He put his weight on the right foot ; the snow swallowed him a bit with a pleasant sound. He put his other foot on the next step, a big smile lightening his face. As the world seemed to stop under the snow, in the silence and absence of people, snow became an entity, a person of its own, crackling softly under his body, embracing his boots, whispering wonders. Snow was a question. Snow was a stranger.

Wonders, wonders surrounded him as he jumped in the white and soft coat of snow, finally acting like the kid he couldn't be before. He fell, too hasty in his race, and laughed, face in the snow. He knew ice. He knew ice villains. He didn't know the marvels of a day of snow. He rolled over, staring at the sky, searching for the falling snowflakes as he left marks of his body on the floor. Silence, for a while; then he laughed again and sat up. He had to shake his head to get rid of the snow in his hair. His face was cold and he couldn't feel his nose at the moment, but he couldn't care less. _Snow_. Beautiful, smooth, comfortable snow. Reassuring snow. Somehow, it felt like a cocoon; all white, quiet and wrapping him with care. As if nothing could happen on a day like this one, where snow was all around and all over everything: no villains, no accidents, no problems. Of course, he knew that wasn't the case; but he decided to believe it, at least for a few minutes. Everything was as he wanted it to be, or almost; snowy days made people lonely, he thought. Or lonelier. Maybe it was the neverending white, or the soft calm, or the distance you could reach with just a look; but he felt alone in an immensity of nothingness.

Christmas was the time of wonders; the time to demand and to receive. And so his wish was quickly granted. Snow cracked under new feet and he heard a familiar voice calling him. He turned around.

 

“Hey.” Jaime's voice echoed in the sweet stillness of the place.

 

 


	2. Hot Drinks and Chill

# Hot Drinks and Chill

 

 

 

“What are you looking at?”

Bart raised his head to look at him.

“It's raining.”

Jaime glanced at the window. Rain had been pouring for hours now.

“I know.”  
“I like it more when it's snowing.”  
“I know.”  
“I don't like being cold and wet.”  
“I know.”

The Beetle took his hand and made him stang up, then get away from the window. He had to remember to close the curtains. Rain had the bad habit to demoralize Bart -something he long tought was impossible, though.

“Would you like me to bake some gingerbread?”  
“... Yes.”

Jaime smiled and kissed the Speedster's forehead.

“ 'kay. I'll do that. Do you want a cup of cocoa meanwhile?”  
“Yes. With a _lot_ of chocolate.”  
“I know.”

He put the milk on the gas to heat it up, breaking pieces of chocolate in it.

“We should stay the entire day on the couch or something.” Bart muffled, avoiding to look at the window again.

Jaime raised an eyebrow.

“With you incapable of staying still more than two minutes?”

Bart pouted. The brunet laughed.

“I've already got the blankets and all the DVDs out. Make yourself at home, I'll be right there.”

The Speedster's eyes brightened suddenly.

“I love you.” he whispered.  
“I know you do.” Jaime kissed him softly. “I know you do.”


	3. Thieves

****

#  **Thieves**

 

 

 

Blue Beetle drummed his fingers on the table.

 

“I am not going to ask you again.”

 

He took a chair and sat backwards, staring at the suspect. He was not joking. He seemed, actually, pretty tired to be here and probably only wanted to end this quickly.

 

“I'm not going to scream or anything. Just tell me the truth.”

 

Bart flinched. Not because he felt guilty, just because this side of Jaime always _had_ him, always made him quiver and tremble. He liked the lower, more serious tone he could use. He liked the dark irises staring at him without flinching.

 

“Did you, or did you not help Milagro to steal a piece of the Yule log?”

“I didn't _help_ her, I did it all by myself. I stole it.”

 

Jaime arched an eyebrow.

 

“Funny, she told me the exact same thing.”

“Because that's the truth. She doesn't have anything to do with it. I did it.”

 

Silence. The older teen stared at him; Bart had to battle to stare back.

 

“She ate it, dummy.” The Beetle confessed. “She had chocolate all around her mouth, she ate it all without you.”

 

New silence before Bart's eyes widened quickly.

 

“ _TRAITOR_!”

 


	4. Endgame

****

#  **Endgame**

**  
**

 

 

 

Jaime Reyes knew all the tiny things that made him fall in love little by little with Bart Allen.

 

His way to quickly introduce himself, almost chewing his words - “ _Hi, I'm Impulse, name's Bart Allen._ ” -, his expressions - _“Crash!”_ \- or the way he used his own - _“Curb the attitude, get a little altitude, hermano”_ -, how he acted with people - _“Do not worry, ma'am, I'll take care of it”_ \- or how he cared for his friends - _“Hey, Gar, you okay? You seem a little not-green, like, litterally”.  
_ At first, Jaime thought he fell in love with Bart's voice. The way it danced, waved through the air; the way it had screamed his name – his nickname – this _“Blue!”,_ with despair and a breaking voice, more than once. The way it worried for him, called his name, laughed and even cried. And at first, Jaime probably fell in love with it, actually.

Then Jaime fell in love with Bart's looks. With his costume, with the way his hair fell over his eyes -the fuck, who could have such beautiful green sparkling eyes? -, the way his skin was slightly freckled, mostly in the neck, the way he ran -the way he moved, whole. Jaime could recognize the sound Bart made when walking; he knew without looking when the Speedster turned around if he was in the same room. Every sound, every movement the air made around him could easily be identified by the older teen -and when he couldn't, the Scarab would do it for him cheerfully.  
Thinking about it, Khaji-Da probably grew fond of Bart too. Jaime couldn't just define if it was because of his own feelings or not.

Next, Jaime fell in love with Bart's needs. His incredible need of food, of course, and the surprising amount he could just swallow in a bare second; but also his needs of freedom, family, happiness and hugs. Bart needed closeness as no one else he knew. Bart was constantly touching, hugging, pushing someone. Bart was constantly having his hands on an arm, a shoulder, a back; his face on a chest; his legs on someone, taking half of the couch just for himself. Jaime came to learn how to be useful to him with that. Before any kind of romantic relationship, they cuddled. Bart needed a lot of these, and Jaime could tell when he needed them. Pain, sorrow, loneliness – bad memories, fears, doubts. Jaime just knew when to bump his shoulder and cover him with his arms. And Bart, then, would just laid back and take a deep breath. Recovery. Jaime wanted to believe he helped him recover.

 

Jaime Reyes knew all the tiny things that made him fall in love little by little with Bart Allen.

But it was when he saw the Speedster, half laughing half crying, open his presents under the team's Christmas tree, bathing in the fairy lights, that his heart fell down in his chest and he knew he was doomed.

 


	5. Of Shapes and Untold

****

#  **Of shapes and untold**

****

 

 

They couldn't see each other as often as they'd like. Being in different colleges, having different schedules, working on different teams made all their time together vanish little by little. Maybe, when the holiday comes, maybe then, it would be different and they'd be able to do something together; for now, it wasn't the case. Living together yet never seeing each other but late at night was a literal pain. They didn't even eat together because of their schedule and, well, hero-work. They could only share a soft kiss before going to sleep to redo the same neverending day again.

Jaime folded the sheets over him, thinking almost loudly. He didn't remember the last time they had sex. Damn, he didn't even remember the last time they watched a movie together. Life was a bitch. College was a bitch. “Beetling” was a bitch. Karma was the bitchiest of the bitches. Because it had to be karma.

He could pretty easily count the seconds when he and Bart stood in the same room, awake -and if he couldn't, Khaji-Da did it for him. Sixty to sixty-four, usually. Then they would go to sleep, and wake up on different times. Bart tried, at first, to wake up with him and share breakfast before he'd go to college; but it was a real effort to him, and running so often and so fast already tired him way too much. It was no use, Jaime said. _Just sleep until your alarm goes off._ And so the young now-adult could have his fair share of sleep, and so live both his college and superhero life. It was like this, and there was nothing they could do against it. They weren't the only ones to struggle, and almost everyone they knew -Young Justice, Teen Titans, and even more – had choices to make. Sacrifices. And so they had to sacrifice their young couple life for an undefined time – until the holidays, Jaime hoped. They would have a bit more time for Christmas. They had to. They'd find time. They'd _make_ time.

Cold came, and made him glum. Days shortened, night time increased; but still no more sharing time for them. Just bodies sleeping closer because of the cold -sometimes rain or snow outside. It just made him grunt everytime. Life seemed pointless at that time of the year, without a minute to see Bart, hear Bart, touch Bart, talk with Bart. He needed a break, and he needed it quickly.

That's when he saw them.

Taking the hottest shower he ever took -or at least, in months-, he spotted a few marks around the glassdoor of the shower. He first thought the glass was dirty, or damaged; but when he slided a finger on it, the shaped vanished. _The steam_. It was the steam. Something appeared because of the heat. He waited a few seconds more, then could easily define the shapes of the tiny figures in front of him.

Hearts. Tiny hearts. Big hearts. Hearts, everywhere along the glass. A single trail of lips, too. And three little words that soothed his heart.

 


End file.
